


File No. ???

by Samsonet



Category: Layton Brothers: Mystery Room
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 03:31:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7874512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samsonet/pseuds/Samsonet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Hilda Pertinax has a good day, in spite of (due to?) Alfendi's efforts.</p><p>(A summer Christmas present for Professorpenandink! I hope you like it!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	File No. ???

Hilda Pertinax turned into the side street, feeling carefree and -- dare she say it -- happy. She was in London on a rare free day, having just closed a case the day before, and about to have lunch with her favorite inspectors from Scotland Yard. As life went for am Interpol agent, things were good.

She found the restaurant: a small, clean place with a sign that declared it ELLIE'S. Ellie's was a favorite of hers, a discovery from the last time she was in town.

Hilda stepped inside and was immediately met by Ellie herself. Justin was already there; the look on his face was somewhere between professional patience and professional bemusement.

"Miss Pertinax," Ellie said, hands on hips. "There has been a crime committed here, and this man refuses to do anything about it!"

"Is that so," Hilda replied. Justin shrugged.

"Yes! There was a man here, bright red hair, incredibly rude. He is joined by another man, quieter, nicely-dressed. Does the redhead care for his friend’s politeness and manners? No! He walks over to my wall -- here -- grabs two pictures -- like so -- and tears them off! My pictures! I had one signed by Dolly Hollerday herself! And then he stole it!”

“I’ve been trying to tell her that I’m in the homicide division,” Justin explained. Ellie took no notice of his interruption.

“Furthermore, he left his tea bag in his friend’s coffee cup! That might be even worse! How such a handsome, kind, young, gentle man gets caught up with such a ruffian, I do not know.” She shook her head sadly. “So, Miss Pertinax? Can you help me?”

Hilda realized that there was no way to ignore this request. “Alright, Ellie. We’ll see what we can do. But I was actually supposed to meet two people here… Justin, have you seen Al?”

“No sign of him.”

She turned to Ellie. “I don’t suppose you would remember if he came in? Al is tall, wears crumpled suits, has bright red -- oh, no.”

She turned around and walked back to the side street, Justin following.

They had been walking for two and a half minutes before she spoke. “If Al has picked today to do something stupid, I will never forgive him.”

“I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding,” Justin said, but he rubbed his beard the way he usually did when they were on a case.

“The problem is, where are we supposed to find him? Will he go back to the Scotland Yard building, and if so, is he going to wait around for us to come scold him? Not likely. So where do we go?”

“Well, there is a place that he likes to go when he can’t hide at work. It’s right up the street from here…”

“Right up the street” turned out to be five blocks. Justin told her all about how he’d followed Alfendi there once without getting caught, punctuating his story with greetings to passersby and shop employees. He would not say just where they were going. Hilda thought it might be a bookshop, or maybe an old music store. She would have walked right past the florist’s if Justin hadn’t stopped.

“A flower shop? Really?”

“My best guess is it reminds him of his sister. But I have a hunch that he’s been here recently.” Justin pointed to one of the shelves just outside the shop’s door. Hidden behind a potted iris was a framed photograph of Dolly Hollerday.

Hilda dusted it off. “Well, we’ve recovered the stolen property, I assume?”

“Yeah, but there’s no sign of Al. I’d like to find him before we do anything else. Hey, you’re new!”

This last comment was directed at a pigtailed teenager who’d just come out of the shop. She wore an apron with the florist’s logo embroidered on it, but no nametag.

The girl smiled. “I just started work last week! It’s a lot of fun! Oh, wait, sorry. Do you need anything?”

“Yes. Have you seen a redheaded man come in here earlier today?”

She nodded. “I did! He was obnoxious! But I wonder if everything was alright with him…”

Hilda shot Justin a look. “What do you mean?”

“Well, there was someone else with him! A purple-haired man. About this tall. I remember ‘cause I was thinking how nicely their hair colors matched. My friend loves fashion, so I tell her whenever I see fashionable people!”

“...and?”

“Oh! And the red man, he asks if I have any mock orange flowers here. Of course we don’t! Mock orange is the flower of deceit! It’s not something you give people at anniversaries and funerals!”

Hilda nodded solemnly. “Of course. Did either of the men say where they were headed?”

“Yes! They said they were headed to Charlotte’s Park. It’s a really pretty park, you know! My mom goes there for inspiration on making her arrangements sometimes. Hey, where are you go-- ”

Hilda and Justin wasted no time in getting to Charlotte’s Park.

Almost immediately they noticed the line of benches, and the pair of men sitting in one of them.

“Wait here,” Hilda said. “I’m going to see what this is all about.”

She walked casually across the park, then sat on the bench right next to the two men. She stretched, pretended to be interested in the wind blowing through the trees, and listened closely.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the men turn to look at Justin. The redheaded man laughed. He spoke:

“It appears our trip has come to an end, Alfred Dente.”

Hilda blinked. That was definitely not Al’s voice. She was suddenly afraid that she’d spent a good hour on a worthless -- not to mention possibly embarrassing -- hunt.

“So it has…” The purple-haired man chuckled a very familiar, Laytonesque chuckle.. “...Leroy Pinne.”

With those words, two and two made four billion. She understood everything. Or at least, enough. Leroy Pinne: a criminal mastermind Hilda had searched through countries for, always coming up with nothing. Alfred Dente: an obvious pseudonym now that she recognized him as her Al, Alfendi. The purple hair and casual clothes: part of the disguise. She hoped.

Pinne was speaking again. “You know, I am something of a fan of mystery stories. Have you ever read the classic, The Blue Cross?”

“Yes, actually. A priest, having fallen in with a criminal, leaves clues for the detectives following him. Clever.”

“Clever, hm? Then you might be interested to learn that I have done something similar, just now!”

“Did you,” Al said, a slight smugness in his tone.

“When we left Ellie’s, I noticed a policeman walking in just as I was going out. So I tore a picture or two off the wall, you see? Then I left the picture at the florist shop we visited -- while making an unusual and memorable request of flowers. And finally, I mentioned that we were coming here -- and would you look at that, the policeman has found us. I wonder what he will make of an American criminal… especially when he finds the drugs in your pocket?”

“The packet that looked like a teabag, you mean?” Alfendi was smirking now. “I left that back at Ellie’s. In your coffee cup, I believe.”

Hilda nearly stared in speechless disbelief. She caught herself, though, and turned the other way. Evidently, Pinne was feeling the same thing, for it was Al who spoke again next:

“When you were going to leave the restaurant, I confess I worried about how I would get you to the proper authorities. Thankfully, you did the job for me. It was all a matter of subtly encouraging you, and leading you to the right places. I was helped by your ignorance of a few important facts.”

“A-and those are?”

“First: Alfred Dente does not exist. I am Inspector Alfendi Layton of Scotland Yard. Second: that ‘policeman’ you so kindly led here is my colleague. And third: this woman to our left is the Interpol agent who has been hunting you for months.”

Pinne smiled weakly. “Good afternoon?”

Hilda gave him a broad grin of her own. “Nice to meet you.”


End file.
